


In Between

by GeniusCactus



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 12:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10019891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeniusCactus/pseuds/GeniusCactus
Summary: Fuji’s birthday isn’t to be lumped in with the 28th or the 1st like some afterthought. It deserves its own stand alone time.





	

On non-leap years Fuji jokes it doesn’t matter if they celebrate his birthday--that he doesn’t  _ really _ have one. That lighthearted smile could lull almost anyone into brushing it off as another one of Fuji’s odd quirks. 

Except... Tezuka isn’t ‘almost anyone.’ 

He sees the way Fuji buries his emotions, shoving them deep down where no one, not even Fuji himself can distinguish them anymore. Tezuka first observes this in Fuji’s tennis, and how it prevents him from investing himself seriously. And then Tezuka begins to notice it in other seemingly minor aspects of Fuji’s life. Like the way he speaks about his birthday. When Fuji says,  _ I don’t really have a birthday _ it is almost like a personal reminder in the event that someone close to him were to forget or blow it off. Maybe his brother? But Tezuka was under the impression they had mended their relationship... 

Whatever the case, Tezuka decides Fuji’s idea of not having a birthday isn’t a very logically solid one. Everyone has a birthday. It just doesn’t make sense not to. So, Tezuka thinks it’s not that Fuji doesn’t have a birthday, Fuji’s birthday just lies  _ in between _ .  Even on non-leap years Tezuka always pens Fuji’s birthday in on the thin vertical line separating February 28th and March 1st. Words exactly in the middle, not curving more or less to one side. 

This is also part of why Tezuka ignores Atobe’s advice about switching to a fancy smartphone calendar before his move to Germany. Yes, a smartphone would be more professional and efficient, but it won’t allow him to write in between the lines like his trusty pocket calendar. 

In the months following his move, Tezuka knows he and Fuji don’t speak often enough. His emails are always too short, and he waits too many days to return Fuji’s calls because he doesn’t have anything new to say. Back at Seigaku they were never the types to diverge into long winding conversations, but somehow Fuji always seemed to be right there. A knowing nod during a tennis match, happening to have the book Tezuka wants to borrow for class, or staying late after practice to help clean up... Those types of gestures can’t be replicated through speech or text, and it’s strange to communicate with him like this. 

When Fuji’s birthday rolls around, Tezuka’s already blocked off the space in his schedule to call him. February the 28th 16:00 Germany time. He doesn’t have much to say besides ‘happy birthday,’ but tells himself it’s the thought that counts.

*

*

Halfway across the world, Fuji sets his ringer on silent as he prepares to turn in for the night. His day has been peppered with texts and calls from friends, teammates, and family members, but not the one person he desperately craves to hear from. He’d worked himself up to think Tezuka was going to call and felt disappointed when he didn’t . With himself more than anyone else. 

Of course, Tezuka could be planning to call tomorrow, Fuji’s other kind of birthday. Still, it is difficult to quell the thoughts lingering in his mind. That his birthday is not important enough to warrant a call, or how their relationship is slowly fading due to distance. 

As he gives his phone one last hopeful look, the screen flashes Tezuka’s name, almost as if he’s willing it to do so. Fuji pauses a couple moments before answering, mentally sifting through their previous conversations, wondering if he somehow guilted Tezuka into calling. 

_ Do you have any idea what time it is over here? _ Is what Fuji’s wants to say, but the words don’t quite form themselves properly, and he finds himself voicing a silly  _ Hello? _ like he doesn’t know who’s on the other end of the line.

“Hello Fuji, it’s Tezuka calling to wish you a happy birthday.” 

He says it all in one go. Tone straightforward, sounding mildly rehearsed like the type of rote phrases people leave when the answering machine picks up. Fuji emits a silent chuckle, pent-up tension in his body dissipating as he sinks back into his chair. 

_Thanks_! _It’s good to hear from you._ _How’s your tennis?_ These are all the things Fuji should say next. It’s polite. It shows how much he appreciates Tezuka calling, which he does. He treasures it more than almost anything.

And this is exactly why Fuji says nothing of the sort. 

Instead he gives a little laugh, “Tezuka, you know it’s not  _ really _ my birthday, right?” 

The words tumble out, an automatic defense to guard the careful ruse Fuji’s carved around his appearance. Say anything else and he risks Tezuka finding out the truth. He doesn’t know what will happen then. He isn’t ready. Ready to let Tezuka see the way his face lights up at the sound of his voice. Or the way his stomach flips with dizzy anticipation when there’s an unread message in his inbox, even when it’s one stupid sentence long. Fuji isn’t ready for Tezuka to know just how much he savors the odd pockets of time they spend together. 

“It’s your birthday right now.” Tezuka sounds so certain, Fuji momentarily questions if Tezuka has the year wrong. “It’s still the 28th where I am. And...”

“Where I am it’s just barely the 1st.” Fuji finishes, eyes fixated on the time. 00:02. 

Gears click into place as it hits him. This isn’t just a last minute call after Tezuka’s practice. Tezuka squeezing Fuji into his too busy schedule, checking him off like some item on a to-do list. One could chalk it up to coincidence, maybe Tezuka just happened to call at this time. But unlikely, Tezuka is hardly the improvisational type. He’s probably been planning to call at this exact time for weeks, maybe even months. 

“It almost feels like it’s the 29th somewhere in there, doesn’t it?” Fuji says after a while, letting Tezuka know the sentiment hasn’t been lost on him. 

Of course, humble as always, Tezuka brushes it off like it’s no big deal. But to Fuji, the simple gesture is the reassurance he needs to know he’s someone who matters to Tezuka. Not just some former teammate, but a wanted presence in his post-Seigaku life.  And maybe Fuji’s not completely insane for wondering if Tezuka might, _just might_ look forward to these conversations as much as he does. But, that’s a discussion best saved for another day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


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